


Pieces of Another Life

by dearxalchemist



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s the loudest person in his psychology class. Her hands never sit still and she’s constantly tapping her foot, announcing her opinions as the professor pauses between lectures. She doesn’t whisper as quietly as she thinks either. Especially when she turns to whisper at his roommate a row below him. Napoleon tells him her name is Gaby and she’s in on a full scholarship. She’s incredibly sharp and he knows her mouth can cut him the moment she tilts her head up.</p><p>Original Prompt: Shy and quiet Illya falls in love with Gaby while they go to uni together.<br/>This started out as a prompt on Imagine Gallya and from there I've decided to add on other pieces / ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psychology Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I am an Admin on the blog: @imaginegallya, and this prompt came through which I filled and fell so in love with the idea of these two in a college AU I had to expand on it. I will update this as I go along, the original prompt is posted on the blog. The rest of the pieces will be posted here. If you want to submit a prompt, please do so at @imaginegallya. We're always accepting new prompts. Most of these chapters on this AU will be somewhat short. I don't know when I'll end it or how I'll end it. It's just a collection of college days as the two fall in that inevitable sense of love. - Mature themes to come soon.

She’s the loudest person in his psychology class. Her hands never sit still and she’s constantly tapping her foot, announcing her opinions as the professor pauses between lectures. She doesn’t whisper as quietly as she thinks either. Especially when she turns to whisper at his roommate a row below him. Napoleon tells him her name is Gaby and she’s in on a full scholarship. She’s incredibly sharp and he knows her mouth can cut him the moment she tilts her head up, noticing his missing roommate. 

“Where’s Napoleon?” Gaby whispers in that not-so-silent voice of hers. Her brown hair is pulled up in one of those high messy buns that has loose pieces that are partially tucked into her crimson hoodie that’s splashed with the University’s logo across the front of it. Gaby’s got her pen between her lips, chewing on the cap as she waits on him to answer her, “He’s got my notes for this!” Her voice is a little louder and Illya winces, because this is the most attention he’s had on him all semester long. 

His grades are near perfect, his social skills are not-so-much on the same level. Being an exchange student from Russia tends to keep him from most of the parties, unlike his roommate who is constantly with a new girl, between every class imaginable.

He doesn’t really have the heart to tell her that he’s probably still in bed with yet another pre-med coed. Instead he leans down a bit, lowering his voice, “I think he’s not feeling well.” Illya watches her brow crease with a moment of concern before she blows out this irritated sigh, inconvenienced by Napoleon not showing up to the lecture. Before the professor is even in the class, Gaby grabs her things and moves up to the empty seat next to his own.

She tosses her bag next to his and stuffs one of her pens into her bun, “What are you doing?” Illya asks in this soft voice as the professor walks in. The rest of students start to settle down but Gaby, doesn’t pause.“I’m joining you. I’m going to need your notes since clearly, your roommate has mine.”

Her voice is louder than the rests and it makes him flush for some reason, eyes averting from the curve of her lips as she pouts, legs crossing and sinking in her seat as the lecture begins. They spend the rest of their class like that, Gaby leaning incredibly close and still being incredibly loud, drawing attention to the both of them. He can’t help but find her amusing. She’s eager to learn, to get the correct answer, and to invade his personal space.

All class long she’s been leaning across his desk, her pen scratching notes into the margin of his paper. He starts to answer her little notes with his own and soon they fill up an entire paper as the lecture ends. At the bottom of his paper she leaves her name in looping-letters and scratches her room number under it. Before he can leave his own on her notebook, she’s gone. Her laptop is closed and tucked under her arm and she’s out the door.

Illya lingers back a few minutes, collecting his notes and staring at her name scratched across the paper. She’s the most fun he’s had in a class since he started at the University. The next day she’s not in class, but she’s in the commons with that same red hoodie and boots crunching across the hundreds of leaves that are lining the ground. He’s staring when she calls at him, waving a hand towards him. Illya stiffens for a moment, unsure if she’s waving at him or someone behind him. The Russian man pauses and glances behind him before shifting the books in his arms, looking back to Gaby before raising a hand and waving to her, small wiggle of his fingers before she seems sated and starts walking the opposite way of him.

Illya barely gets to sigh before his roommate comes ambling up to him, hooking an arm over his taller shoulders, “Peril,” Napoleon’s nickname rolls off his tongue as he walks alongside of him, heading towards the steps of the campus library.

“I’ve got a problem and I’m going to need you to help me out.” Napoleon’s words don’t hush despite walking into the very quiet building. Illya yanks his shoulders away from Napoleon’s grip and he adjusts the hefty load of books in his hold. His roommate is holding a bright piece of paper with directions to the fraternity house for the party.

“Not interested, Cowboy.” Illya teases him knowing good and well that the shelf they share in the dorm room is full of old western novels, with broken spines and torn pages from constant reading.

“The only way Victoria will go out with me is if I get a friend for her friend and we go to the mixer tonight across campus!” Napoleon’s loud words get him a couple of glares as well as a sharp, ‘Hush!’ from someone in a study cubby. His roommate gives him an elbow, trying to force him into being more social.

All semester long Napoleon’s main goal had been to socialize his foreign roommate at every sorority, fraternity and social mixer on campus. Each time Illya had rejected him, settling in at his desk and focusing on studying rather than socializing.There’s a flash of crimson and Illya looks up just to see Gaby across the over-sized room. She’s got another pen holding her bun up and her teeth are sunk low into her bottom lip. There’s an open book in her hand and she’s walking while reading. People are moving out of her way as she continues her journey along the aisles. Wedged in her hand is another one of those brightly colored flyers like the one Napoleon is holding.

Illya pauses his steps, knowing that Napoleon is following his gaze to the much shorter woman who is zig-zagging around people, “On second thought, Cowboy. I’ll go.”

He only sees her a few more times before the big party. It’s more like she finds him. Always popping in and out of his vision, waving at him behind the glass of lecture hall doors and even passing notes under his dormitory door where girls are strictly prohibited. The two of them are a constant stop and go ever since that class she sat next to him. They get glimpses of one another across the campus commons. It isn’t hard for her to spot him, he stands a good head taller than everyone else. Even so he always manages to see her smiling at him first. Gaby is always waving to him, lips constantly curving up into a sharp smirk when he gets just close enough, before a wave of students pushes them apart. He catches her a few more times in class, but by the time she makes it to class, the seats around him are full. 

The next time he gets to see her, everything is a raging mess.The fraternity house is pumped full of music and bodies. There are paper cups everywhere and the room is filled with cigarette smoke. Napoleon has himself a date with the lead girl of some sorority with golden blonde hair and endless legs. Her friend is lingering on Illya’s arm before she goes to get drinks and he leaves his roommate in search of some place quiet. There is no quiet though. Every room in the house is full of people and the smell of liquor. The music is turned up so loud he can barely hear himself think and by the time he makes it from the front of the house to the back porch, he’s already ready to go back to his quiet dorm. Pushing open the back door, he takes a few steps out and inhales the cool air of an autumn night.

Most of the party is contained to the house, but when he takes a few more steps, he hears the drunken giggle of someone stumbling out the back door. Gaby is a disheveled mess as she hits the back porch in search of cooler air. Her cheeks are flushed and there’s another giggle falling from her lips as she stumbles to one of the pillars that holds up the house. Illya pauses his walk down the steps and turns back to see her leaning over the railing of the porch, waving to him.

“I tried to catch you inside, but you move really fast for someone so tall.” Gaby’s words are a little slurred, more than obvious that she’s been drinking, “Do you not like the party?”

“Party is not for me.” Illya gestures back to the house, and he should keep going home but he stops. He turns to face her a little more, his fingers twitching in his pockets as he watches her for a moment. Her lips are parted as she grins to him, letting her gaze roll up to the dark sky. She stargazes for a moment before she glances back down to him.

“You should join me for a drink at least. I am the party.” Gaby is one-hundred percent sure of herself with a confident smile that is infectious. She moves around the pillar and starts down the steps towards him. When she gets to the bottom she has to crane her head back to look at him properly, “Illya?”

It’s dark out but there’s enough light from the porch, he can make out her little smirk as she stands up on the tips of her toes. Even on her tiptoes she barely reaches him, he has to lean down to meet her, and this is it. His heart skips a beat as her eyes close and she moves her hands up, curling them into the front of his sweatshirt for support. Her palms press over the soft fabric before she sinks her fingers down into a tight grip.

“Y-Yes?”Before he can lean down and kiss her, she’s falling against him. Gaby is out like a light, collapsing against him he barely has a moment to wrap his arms around her.

“Gaby!” His voice is a fierce whisper as he helps her up for a moment, but her cheek is firmly pressed against his sweatshirt and her eyes are shut, soft sounds of sleep leaving her lips. His chest rumbles with a soft laugh as he moves his hands over her back softly, palms smoothing down the back of her hoodie. She smells like vodka and something sweeter, like a sugary dessert. Her hair is softer than he imagined, and this time there’s no pens decorating it. It’s down in curls around her shoulders and he gently toys with one of them, pulling softly before letting it go. She murmurs something against his sweater and he moves his hands down. In one swift motion he manages to pick her up. She is easy to pick up, weighing practically nothing in comparison to what he can usually lift.

He moves them back up the steps to the porch and towards one of the patio chairs where he settles down with Gaby pulled against his lap. She instantly buries her face in the crook of his neck and mutters something in what he thinks is German. He keeps his hands on her back, running them back and forth in soothing motions as she curls into him. This was definitely not on the list of scenarios he had in mind when getting ready for the fraternity party. He had planned to find Gaby and have a chance to talk to her – maybe even ending the night by walking her to her dorm room. Maybe even a chance for coffee on a later date. He did not envision her curled against his chest with the smell of vodka on her lips. Illya tucks her under his chin and closes his eyes for a moment. If he concentrates hard enough, he can block out the party and soak up the silence he has with the small woman in his arms.

She’s warm against his chest and for a moment he wants this to last longer than just one night. He wants this – all of this, for more than just tonight. His heart skips a beat and he thinks maybe this is it, this is what all those great literature books are about. The inevitable love that he wasn’t looking for, she found him.


	2. Winter Coats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of a prompt submitted to @imaginegallya, where Winter settles in to the campus.

She leaves him notes under his dorm door. They’re simple little folded pieces of paper with looping letters scratched over the blue lines. They’re never long, always short and to the point, punctuated with a tiny heart. One little heart he has no idea if intentional or not. Her handwriting is a mix of smudgy and elegant, slanted in a way that he has to tilt the paper to read. All her notes are the same, inviting him out to study with her -- or work on homework that he knows she desperately needs to do and he saves them all. He just never answers them. Something about Gaby is dangerous. Not in that life threatening way, but in a way it threatens his very tightly woven world. She’s loud and cunning, sharp as a tack and he knows if he gets close enough, she could cut him into small pieces. 

The notes stop after the fraternity party. After her drunken slumber on his chest, she hasn’t slipped a single note under his door. They had stayed on that porch for over an hour before Napoleon came looking for him, shaking his dark head when he spotted Illya snoozing with his head buried against the crown of Gaby’s dark head. He woke them both, offering to walk Gaby home as Illya’s date for the party rejoins them hanging on his arm like she’s been there all night. The woman isn’t easily shaken loose and he’s stuck walking her home instead of the girl he wants.

That’s the last real moment he has with her. She’s not in class the next day. She’s not across the commons waving at him. She’s not even in the library, walking in a haphazard line with her nose stuck in a book. Maybe his infatuation with the small German girl is nothing more than that. Just an infatuation with a girl who could reduce him into a thousand little pieces. It’s probably better he doesn’t see her the next day. He doesn’t have to explain why Victoria’s friend was buried into his side, or why his roommate was the one to walk her home. He doesn’t have to embarrass her by telling her she can’t hold her liquor. That her almost-kiss wasn’t anything more than a momentary lapse of drunken judgement. Somehow Illya makes it through all his classes with his head screwed on straight, pushing away daydreams of a small woman curled into his sweatshirt. 

It isn’t until a week later he sees her and it’s only a glimpse as the snow starts really coming down. It’s early in the season for snow, but cold enough for it. It sticks to everything. Snowflakes are everywhere, obscuring his vision and making it hard to see at great distances but he can see her crimson hoodie across the commons. She’s laughing and it’s musical against the harsh murmurs of the students passing him by. He get’s elbowed a few times as people hunch down, hurrying along the crowded sidewalk to their next class. It doesn’t matter to him though, he’s rooted to his spot on the sidewalk with his blue eyes stuck on her. She’s running around with a few of her friends, Napoleon is among them when she rolls up a handful of snow and chucks it at him. There’s a small explosion of white against Napoleon’s jacket and he over-exaggerates being hit. Gaby is laughing again and even from his distance, he can see the cloud of warm breath against her lips and he wonders if she’s cold, if she would benefit better from his thick trench coat that’s belted around his middle. Before he can let that thought catch on, she’s hit by a snow ball and starts running away, laughing as she rounds a leafless tree. Then all too quickly, he watches as Napoleon rounds the same tree and spooks her with a handful of snow. There’s a sharp shriek and then he’s tackling her and Gaby’s crimson hoodie is a bright spot against a snowy white ground. 

Without thinking, Illya is crossing the commons. His much longer legs are clearing the short space as he watches his roommate lean over Gaby’s smaller form. She’s all giggles, snowflakes sticking to her flushed cheeks. Before Napoleon can put any of his signature moves on Gaby, Illya is there. He’s hauling Napoleon up by his upper arm and is muttering a curse in his native tongue, “Up!” He growls to his roommate, suddenly very angry with one of the very few friends he has on campus.

Napoleon knows how he feels about the small woman.

He’s commented on it once or twice even though Illya has never said the words, it’s hard to ignore them. 

“Peril!” Napoleon is also all laughter and a charming smile. He’s dusting off his dark coat as he wrenches his arm out of Illya’s grasp, “We’re only playing.” He assures him, turning his gaze to Gaby and giving her a wink before a certain blonde across the sidewalk calls his name. He holds a gloved hand up and wiggles his fingers to Victoria who blows him a loud kiss. 

Illya is ignoring him. Instead he’s turned back to Gaby, holding a hand down to her, wishing for a moment she would take it. She doesn’t though. Gaby digs an elbow down into the snow and pushes herself up. She’s covered in snow. It’s stuck to all of her red clothing and her hair. When she looks up at him, he can see the flakes stuck against her lashes. She’s all flushed and breathing hard, “Illya,” She greets him with a nod of her head, “Is everything alright? Feeling left out?” 

Her tone is teasing him. Gaby’s really good at that. She’s good at twisting her words into those harmless little questions, that makes him feel like a child sometimes. He parts his lips to say something to her but stops himself. Instead he clears his throat and looks away from her, averting his gaze away from her disheveled appearance. All of it reminds him of the party. Deciding to avoid those thoughts all together, he shifts his feet in the snow and speaks up, “I have not seen you in class.” 

It’s more of a statement than a question and with the way he’s worded it, it’s almost accusing her of avoiding him. Gaby’s little nose wrinkles as she turns her head up to him, eyes narrowing for a moment like she’s contemplating her next move on the chessboard. After a moment she gives in and shrugs her shoulders gently, “I haven’t been feeling like psychology lately.” 

Illya raises an eyebrow. This has his attention and he turns his head over to her. She’s watching him carefully with her lips turned up on one side in a cat-like smirk. She’s caught her very own canary and knows it. He presses his lips together in a tight line before managing to get out his next words, not letting her know that she rattles him to his very core, “Aren’t your grades going to suffer?” He asks carefully as another rush of wind goes by.

The gust of wind stirs up all the loose flakes and the campus looks like someone has shaken a snow globe. Gaby’s head sinks down against her shoulders as she stuffs her gloved hands into her pockets. She looks so small in all the flurries around them. It only takes him a moment to react. He’s undoing the belt around his thick trench coat. It’s dark and color and lined with wool. It’s very warm and there’s plenty of room inside as he opens up the coat and steps closer to Gaby. With no invitation to invade her space, he’s wrapping his coat around her, tugging her in closer to his form. She’s pressed flush against his sweater covered chest, head buried in the folds of his coat as she hugs him around his middle. Illya quickly closes his coat around her and it almost closes all the way around her. She’s got her hands around the small of his back and her head is tucked against his chest. He’s worried for a moment she’ll hear his heart slamming against his rib cage. 

Gaby lets out this sweet little sigh and relaxes against him. The silence between them only lasts a moment though. After another gust of wind, Gaby is turning her dark head up to his. She’s still protected by the warm folds of his coat, but she’s still shivering against him. Illya leans down just a bit more, his collar turned up to block the wind from his own face. She’s smiling up at him with that same sharp little smirk of hers, “You’re very warm.” 

Her breath casts a small cloud between them and Illya cracks his own smile. Happy she hasn’t pushed him away. He’s happy she’s allowing him to shield her from the worst of the winter winds, “And you are very cold.” 

He’s trying his hand at teasing her. He’s bad at it. His words aren’t clever like her own. She giggles anyways against him. Her own body shaking against his as she lets her gaze linger on his. For a moment he thinks about leaning in and kissing her. It’s hard to push that thought aside as her brown eyes are tracing down the side of his face, lingering on that small space between them. Her nose isn’t far from his own. He could lean down and press his lips to the tip of her button nose and place a kiss. He doesn’t though, because he’s full of a fear he can’t manage to shake. Fear that this smaller woman in his coat will manage to break his heart before he has a chance to give it to her. Gaby’s hands on his back smooth over his thick sweater and she curls her fingers in just like the night of the mixer. He has a flashback of that night. Of how her eyes slipped up to the sky briefly, stargazing before she moved to him, of how she was all warm and soft pressed into his sweatshirt. She’s still warm, but the tip of her nose is turning red from the cold and all the snow is probably seeping into her hoodie. If they stay any longer outside, she’ll catch a cold. Moving his hands up he quickly brushes his gloved hands over her round cheeks before stepping back from her. It’s hard to do so, but he forces himself to step back and quickly shrugs off his coat. With quick hands he wraps her in his coat. It drags against the snow covered ground as she turns to look at him, eyebrows raised out of curiosity. 

“Come on,” He moves his arm into hers, hooking her in close to him before he stars across the commons. His coat leaves drag marks in the ground next to his shoe prints as they take off in a run. He has to jog slow so she can keep up with him. They’re running together, towards the closest building and pushing themselves through the heavy doors of the library. The winter wind follows them for a moment before the doors shut loudly behind them, leaving them in a mostly empty library where Gaby quickly erupts into a fit of laughter before the stern looks and sharp hisses follow. She quickly quiets down and pulls Illya’s coat in around her slender form. It’s warm and smells like him. It smells like that soap he uses, mixed with the sharp scent of coffee and leather and something much darker. She can’t quite put her fingers on it, but she knows it’s something only Illya Kuryakin can smell like. 

Gaby does another turn in his coat, it’s way too big on her but she looks at home wrapped up inside of it. Illya can’t stop the smile from pulling over his lips. He’s watching her smaller arms fit inside of his coat, flopping the sleeves around for a moment before she starts off towards the inner sanctum of the warm building, “C’mon,” She whispers quietly, “Lets warm up.”


	3. Dorm Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all that snow has it's consequences.

Gaby is easy to lose in the library. Even in his over-sized coat and wet boots, she weaves in and out of aisles of books. Her fingers tickle along their spines as she moves further away from him. Illya is some sort of hypnotic trance. He watches the light steps of her feet, the way she silently dances around each shelf, eyes sliding up and down along the books. They had come into the library to warm up from the early snow settling in across campus, completely blowing off afternoon classes for a moment alone. Though, they weren’t really alone nor were they really together, he always seems to be a step behind her. Then before he can catch up to her, she vanishes. 

A slight moment of panic settles into his stomach before a book on the shelf by his shoulder is pushed aside. He glances over, blue eyes settling on the space between the books. Gaby has pushed all the books to the left, her shorter form spying up at him from the open space now in the shelves. Another cat-like smile is on those lips. Her brows are arched up as she watches him bend down a bit to look at her better. The edge of his lips are twitching, like he’s trying to hold back on a smile. her hands smooth over the edge of the shelf and he knows she’s standing on the edge of her tiptoes just for the chance to reach him. 

“Illya,” She breathes softly. It’s a whisper that sounds much louder in the silent library. The round tops of her cheeks are still red from the cold outside and her lips are pursed from saying his name in that soft tone. Reaching down he moves his hands over hers. His hands are much bigger than hers, his thumbs pressing over her wrists. He can feel the drumming of her pulse under her skin. If only she could feel his, he’s already worried he can hear it in the silence of the library. He leans down a little more, the top of the shelf pushing his hat back as he leans closer to her. Gaby can see bits of blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair is normally so tidy, but right now it’s a mess. There’s still flakes of snow on his sweater and his blue eyes are too busy tracing down the edge of her jaw to see her own hands fold under his. She turns her palms up and wraps her fingers around his wrists. Gaby gives him a soft tug, and he’s as close as he can get with the shelves between them. Their lips are close again. There’s something magnetic between them and Illya’s always finding himself close to her lips and yet, nowhere near them at the same time. 

Gaby’s tongue runs along her bottom lip and she’s closing her eyes, leaning in as close as she can get. His fingers tighten around her wrists just for a moment before the speaker system in the library chimes. The static filled voice fills the quiet building, the library is closing. The sudden noise has them pulling back and before Illya can hold onto Gaby, she’s gone.

The next time he sees her, she’s late for class. The professor has already started his lecture when she slips back into psychology. The professor doesn’t even break lecture as she moves along the rows and takes the seat directly below him. She doesn’t even turn to look at him and she’s still wearing his coat. It’s too big on her and pools around her seat as her fingers dip down into her bag to pull out a pen. The whole lecture carries on and Gaby never once looks back at him. Illya’s concentration is no longer on the droning voice of the professor. It’s on the back of the woman in front of him. She’s curled into his coat, the tip of her nose looks red from this side and he wonders vaguely if she’s caught a cold from being in the snow the day before. His suspicions are confirmed when she’s sneezes against the sleeve of his coat, holding back a round of coughs. He can see her back shake as she holds back. Part of him wants to slink down to the next row and take her back to her dorm -- to at least take her somewhere she can be comfortable while someone takes care of her. Illya can’t do that though. He doesn’t know how she would even handle that or if there is someone to take care of her. He doesn’t even know which one of the young ladies is her roommate. 

The lecture draws on and on and he can’t seem to hear a word the professor is saying. His thoughts are all on Gaby, and they shift when they watch his own roommate reach over and slide a cloth handkerchief onto the edge of her desk. Napoleon’s hand covers Gaby's own for a moment before letting go and Illya watches as she gives his roommate an appreciative smile. There’s a surge of something much like jealousy inside his stomach and Illya straightens in his desk before the professor clears his throat. The man in the tweed suit is waving his hand off with a simple motion of class being dismissed. The room is a small flurry of papers and students as everyone gets up to leave. The crowd is just big enough for Illya to lose Gaby in. She’s gone by the time he gets down to her row and there’s no trace of her in the hall as he leaves, turning his head both ways. There’s no sign of the small woman. She’s like a dream, coming and going in his life when she pleases. There’s no way to grasp a hold of Gabriella Teller and that scares him.

It’s not until dinner he sees Napoleon again and even then, his roommate is not alone. While Illya is takes a bite of out an apple, his roommate is busy taking a bite out of a dark haired woman who is giggling none-too-quietly in the booth of the lunch hall. Illya rolls his eyes and puts his attention back on his open textbook where he’s been attempting to read the same passage for the last ten minutes. It’s hard to though with Napoleon and his newest conquest. Napoleon does something else and the other woman is reduced to a breathy sigh before Illya can clear his throat.

“What?” Napoleon asks, blowing pieces of the woman’s long hair away from his lips, eyeing the red mark he’s put on her neck. 

“I am trying to focus Cowboy,” Illya’s words are harsh, he’s reached a limit and Napoleon knows it. After a moment or two of silence his roommate lets out a hefty sigh, turning his head up to the girl half in his lap and half of the seat. He whispers something to her and she giggles before nodding her head, turning her brown gaze to Illya’s before she slips out of the booth. There’s a spring in her step as she leaves the two of them alone and Napoleon adjusts the collar on his shirt looking to Illya with a raised brow.

After a silent look between the two of them, Napoleon is first to break the silence, “What’s wrong with you?” 

Gripping the edge of his textbook, it takes all of his might not to throw it in his roommate’s face. He takes a deep breath and carefully lets go of the book, “Nothing.” 

His voice is clipped and heavily accented. Not to mention Napoleon doesn’t buy his answer for an instant. Instead he shakes his dark head and reaches for a piece of paper under Illya’s stack. He snatches Illya’s pen as well, scratching down something across the blue lines, “Then here’s a little nothing for you, Peril.” Napoleon gives him a charming smile, sparkling eyes and all as he slides the piece of paper back to him. 

Before Illya can even look at the paper, his roommate is bidding him goodbye and sliding out of the booth. Napoleon is back on the tail of his brunette conquest, sauntering across the dining hall with that charming smile of his. He attracts all kinds of attention and that’s just too much attention for Illya as he turns his gaze down to the paper with the chicken scratch on it. The only thing there is a room number with the name of the building under it with the letter G. It doesn’t take a Illya long to figure out what it means. In no time he’s closing his textbooks and dumping his half-eaten apple. 

The trek across campus isn’t long. The sun is still up but is slowly sinking low in the sky causing dark blues to mix with light pinks and oranges, casting a glow over her building. Getting inside is tricky, but one of the female students lets him in with the promise he will be gone before the sunsets. Shifting his books under his arms he takes the steps two at a time, skipping around a few doors. His blue gaze is sweeping left and right, counting down until he gets to the one that matches Napoleon’s terrible handwriting. The little piece of paper in his hand shakes for a moment and then Illya folds it carefully, pushing it in to his back pocket before he manages to scrape up the courage to knock. He knocks so softly he wonders if anyone on the other side of the door can hear it. Swallowing hard, he lifts his fist again to knock when the door swings open.

There’s an annoyed looking woman peering up at him. Her hair is piled up into a hazardous bun and she’s got on a pajama shirt too big for her small frame and that’s all she’s got on aside from knee-high socks with the school crest on them. There’s an old radio on in her room, the music is filled with static, playing the cool sound of jazz. Not to mention there are balls of tissues everywhere and the tip of her nose is bright red. Gaby barely has a chance to say his name before she sneezes. Illya’s thankful she has enough time to sneeze into the tissue in her hand before stepping up to him. She’s unabashed by her apparel but he’s feeling a little warm around his neck. There’s a color rising across his face and it’s taking all his iron will not to look down at the space between where her shirt ends and the knee-high socks begin. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, looking past him for a moment and then down the hall both ways. There are thankfully no other students in the hall, but that doesn’t mean they will be alone for long. Illya is trying to come up with the words to say to her. He has to have a good reason for skipping studying and coming to her dorm room. His lips part for a moment, trying to find the words when he feels her hand crawling along the front of his sweater. He barely has time to put two and two together when her fingers grip onto the fabric. She’s tugging on him hard. Hard enough to pull him into her dorm room. She does just that, kicking the door close behind them. His head is swimming, her hand is still tight in his sweater and now they’re closer than they’ve been in days. He barely has a moment to look around her room before she breaks out into soft giggles. Those giggles though don’t last long before she’s a shaking mess of coughs. Gaby’s hand on his sweater falls away as she covers her mouth and he doesn’t think twice about it as he wraps an arm around her smaller back, patting it softly. She coughs a few more times before sinking into his chest. 

With a careful hand he guides her towards her small bed set to the left side of the room. He guesses it’s hers because of all the tissues that he quickly knocks on the floor before setting her down. Gaby instantly falls on the small bed, tucking her legs up curling up much like a cat would. He sits on the edge of the bed with her, her head close to his lap while his hand continues smoothing over her back. They don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing too say at this point. She’s sick and he’s ready to care for her, even if she didn’t ask him to. When he takes in her room, he notices the posters of cars taped up on the wall and before he can ask about them, Gaby is placing her head in his lap and sighing loudly. 

Illya’s hand moves up and brushes some of her bangs aside. Her eyes are closed and the shirt is dangerously short against her thighs, he doesn’t look though. He averts his eyes back to the small woman in his lap. She’s breathing a little heavy and her other hand is slung across the tops of his thighs, holding on to him tightly. The jazz music slows down as one song ends and another song begins. It’s a lot slower, all soft notes and a quiet tempo. It’s a song made for couples to dance dangerous close to and Illya can’t help but make the comparison to himself and Gaby, a couple of dancers always off on the wrong foot. Before he can ask her any questions, Gaby breaks the silence, eyes never opening.

“Illya?” She breathes his name again, just like she did in the library. He turns his blonde head down to hers. He doesn’t get to acknowledge her before she continues on in that soft little voice of hers, “Stay.”


	4. Library Brawls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's so much these two haven't said, but there's plenty of time to write them.

Despite all he needs to fulfill her request and stay, he has to go. Her roommate had stumbled in to the room with the smell of liquor on her lips, then demanded in a high-shrill voice that he go before she called the school security to throw him out of the all girls dormitory. Somehow he had managed to not wake up the small woman, lifting her with gentle hands and setting her down onto the mattress. He left her just as another coughing fit started, feeling a tug on his heart and resisting the urge to go back into the room. The roommate had all but slammed the door behind him, leaving him alone in the hallway of the dorm. He stands there alone for a moment and quietly soaking up the imprint of her head on his chest, reaching up and rubbing over the spot carefully before he manages to move. He somehow makes it out of the building despite all better judgement, heads back to his dorm. Days pass before anything happens. No changes in the weather, everything is dark, dreary, and very cold. 

He sees her again though, across the quarry. It’s a flash of red and a loud laugh that draws his attention. He’s amazed at how fast he can find her in the crowd.

She’s looking better, less pale and much more vibrant in that red hoodie of hers. She’s running in boots across the snowy ground. Her books are slipping from her hands and before Illya can shout out her name, he runs into a group of freshmen. His own books and papers go flying and there’s a sharp Russian curse leaving his lips. When he looks up, Gaby is gone like a ghost. There’s no sign of her. Stooping down, he manages to gather up the rest of his papers, hoping his homework dries before the next class. The day only gets worse from there, one lecture bleeding into another, making him lose track of time. The battery in his father’s watch dies, the familiar ticking gone on his wrist. 

He’s running late when he makes it into psychology. His boots make loud squeaking noises across the room and the only seat available is next to the woman in red. He quickly takes it, managing to swipe the seat just as the professor enters the room. Gaby’s brown gaze cuts to his own and he holds it just for a moment before the lecture begins. The professor’s voice is mono-toned. He’s droning on and on about the effects of nature versus nurture in brain development. Somewhere between his pauses, a paper is slipped across the edge of his notes. It’s a small square of yellow legal paper with looping letters written across the blue lines. Gaby’s handwriting is something he’s quite accustomed to. Afterall he has every one of her notes saved in a shoebox under his bed. One that his nosy cowboy of a roommate has yet to sniff out. 

The small note distracts him from the lecture, Gaby’s words are short with three little question marks after them, ‘Did I do something wrong???’

The words confuse the man for a moment. His blond brows furrow for a moment as he contemplates her words. He’s confused and concerned, completely missing the points the professor is making as he moves to the blackboard behind him. Illya’s pen moves from his paper to her yellow one and he carefully scrawls a delicate script under her own. 

‘No.’ It’s short, but it’s all he has. There’s not enough room on the paper to write out the endless questions he has running through his mind. The lesson is all background noise now. He’s focused completely on Gaby as he gently moves the paper over and pushes it onto the edge of her desk, just as the professor turns around once more. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her frown at the paper. Gaby’s pen starts out between her lips. She chews on the end of it, leaving deep teeth marks in the plastic before she scribbles once more. Her pen scratches across the paper before she glances up at the blackboard. When the professor turns around to write once more, she passes the note back to him. It’s like they’re children in primary school all over again. Passing notes, trying not to be caught with their own little secrets on the line. 

‘Then why did you leave?’ 

There’s genuine confusion in her words and when he glances over at her, she looks worried. Her bottom lip is stuck against her teeth where she’s biting so hard, he’s worried she’ll draw blood. He doesn’t bother with the note, instead he speaks up, forgetting altogether that they’re in a crowded classroom -- in the middle of an important lecture.

“I did not want to leave.” His accented voice is loud and interrupts the professor, who turns around with a brow raised. The elder man reaches up, pushing his coke-bottle glasses back up the bridge of his wide nose before he clears his throat.

“Mr. Kuryakin,” The professor’s voice is loud, making Illya wince. “Is there perhaps something you would like to add to my discussion?” 

There’s a burning feeling in his cheeks. Illya’s throat constricts and he shifts in his seat for a moment. His face is flushed and he’s having a hard time catching the words as he shakes his blond head in response to being called out in class. There’s a soft murmur of snickers, all which are hard to ignore. Especially when Gaby smacks a hand over her lips to resist giggling. After what feels like an eternity, the professor ends the embarrassment, going back to his lesson plan. Gaby’s giggling subsides behind her small hand and Illya can’t find the courage to look at her for the rest of the class. He doesn’t look around at the rest of the room either, instead keeps his blue gaze straight ahead on the board. When everyone is dismissed Illya takes his time to pack his belongings up. He’s still embarrassed from the call-out. His cheeks still feel red, and his chest feels tight even when Gaby lingers back with him. As the classroom empties, he’s left with just her. She’s leaning against his desk, hand carelessly on her hip and her eyes watching him. 

He can’t manage to look her in the eye as he practically pushes everything into his bag. When he goes to move, she’s blocking his way. “Gaby,” Illya’s voice is higher than he would like. He tries to push down the embarrassment from earlier and before he can say anything else, she’s got her hand on his chest. For such a small woman she is quite strong. She pushes on his chest, forcing him back into his seat. She’s surprisingly strong with her small hands and manicured nails. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Gaby shakes her dark head to him, unmoving. “Talk to me.” 

Her voice is strong like her grip on his sweater. For a moment he is speechless, looking up at her like she’s gone slightly insane. Moving his hand up, he covers hers on his sweater. His own hand practically swallows hers whole as he curls his fingers around hers, “I do not talk well about such trivial things.” He speaks his truthful words in practically a whisper. It’s just the two of them now in the classroom. There’s only inches between them now and for some reason this feels much more intimate than laying in her small cramped bed. The silence between them doesn’t last long. Gaby isn’t one to sit in silence, he can tell by how fast she answers him, poking fun at his soft tone.

“Trivial? Am I trivial?” Her lips quirk up for a moment and she reaches her free hand over, pressing it now over atop of his own. She’s practically marching in to unmanned territory, tongue tracing over her bottom lip and she’s starting to bounce on the balls of her feet. He’s caught off guard by her words, unable to find his own for a moment before he manages to get his words just right.

“You are not trivial.” His free hand moves up and covers hers now. Now, he holds both of her hands against his chest. He wonders vaguely if she can feel his heart slamming against his chest. He can hear his heart echoing in his ears, along with the rush of blood. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages to pull her down with a short tug. Gaby is easily moved, her feet shift closer and suddenly her nose is inches from his own, “You could never be trivial, small one.” 

 

“Small one?” Her lips quirk up for a moment at the quip to her height, his affectionate nickname is not new to her, but new coming from him. She can feel the heat from his hands seeping into her own and she feels the need to close the gap between them. It’s something she’s wanted to do since the frat house party. Since she danced her away across a crowded room to catch him, stumbling down the back porch and even back in the library with his warm coat wrapped around her. She kept his coat, he never had asked for it back. Not yet at least and part of her was hoping he wouldn’t. She licks over her bottom lip before dragging her gaze across the sharp features of his face, lingering on a small scar close to his blue eyes. He’s watching her, his own eyes locking with hers. There’s something magnetic between them, it’s bringing her closer to his face and before she can gather her wits about her, the next class comes in. The sudden eruption of sound parts them, he loses her fingers before he has a chance to memorize how they feel in his. The two of them instantly let go and slip apart. Somewhere in the chaos of new students and gathering his things, Illya loses Gaby again. She’s gone. Her small form is lost in the crowd of the hall and he can’t manage to calm the racing of his heart or the feeling of her hand on his chest. 

The feeling doesn’t fade for hours. In fact he can still feel it when he makes it back to his dorm. There’s a sock on the doorknob and the familiar giggles of a female voice on the other side of his door. Deciding to leave his roommate and his latest conquest alone, Illya heads for the library, his steps light and his lips turned up into a small smile. Even Napoleon’s antics can’t dampen his spirits. Not while his mind is clouded with the soft smirk of Gaby’s lips, and the feeling of her hand on his chest. Part of him ponders sneaking into her dorm and finishing their conversation from earlier, but he decides against it. It would be against the rules and there’s no need to risk his scholarship by breaking the rules like his reckless roommate loves to do. 

He keeps his pace steady, passing Gaby’s building as he makes his way across campus towards the old library that’s open late. The sun has long since set and the moon is keeping the entire grounds bright, reflecting light off the thick layer of snow that has stuck behind from the previous storm. Illya’s feet easily cut through it all and before long he’s making his way up the steps when he catches the familiar giggle of the woman occupying his thoughts. 

It’s coming from the library. Her distinctive sharp laugh and when he looks up through the thin window panes of the door he can see her head tilted back. Her mouth is wide with another laugh, head leaning back as her hand moves out and gently presses on to the chest of another student. The boy has dark hair and dark eyes, he’s laughing too and his hand is closing over Gaby’s smaller one. Then he’s pulling her in and kissing her to silence her laughter. The world around him slows and everything becomes sort of blurry. He doesn’t remember dropping his books or nearly kicking in the library door. He doesn’t remember his fingers forming a fist or striking the boy. Illya doesn’t remember much of anything until Gaby is grabbing onto both of his hands and shouting. He's pretty sure it's his name on her soft lips, "Illya!" 

Her shouting shatters the red illusion of his anger and then the guilt settles in. It’s heavy like lead in his stomach and before he can say anything, he notices the blood on his knuckles and then the other boy is up, fist colliding with Illya’s face and his nose is suddenly struck with a rush of heat and blood. The library is suddenly too loud and Gaby is incredibly too close, he doesn’t want to strike back and hit her, but the other boy moves again and Illya’s met with a sucker punch to the left temple. The world explodes with black dots and before he knows it, he’s face down on the library carpet, eyes closing. 

"Illya!"


	5. Splintered Edges

Before he even opens his eyes he knows his nose is broken. He can feel the pain radiating along the edge of his cheeks, even under the bandage that’s slicked over the bridge of his nose. The last thing he remembers is Gaby’s hands on his own and her voice raising, his name leaving her lips. The rest of his memory is a red haze. When he does manage to open his eyes, there’s the familiar wallpaper of the school infirmary and the uncomfortable paper thin sheets under him. Across from the bed is one of those flimsy foldout chairs that is currently occupied by a very small woman in a red sweatshirt. She’s all curled up in the small chair and the way she’s tucked in reminds him of a cat. A cat that is all curled up in that same old university sweatshirt. Digging an elbow down into the thin mattress, Illya attempts to move only everything hurts. A groan is pulled from his throat as the severity of his actions are starting to sink in. Gaby shifts in the chair for a moment, but her eyes are still shut and her lips part with a quiet breath. She looks beautiful even in the poor lighting and situation surrounding them is dismal. 

He managed to get himself into a fight, risking the very rules of his scholarship and for what exactly he wasn’t sure of. It wasn’t like Gaby was his, she belonged to no one. Or at least he believed she belonged to no one, for all he really knew of the woman across from him was very little. She could have a long list of lovers. Still the feelings stirring up in his chest told him differently. He had wanted to protect the small scholar, wanted to be the person kissing her in the library -- not the one throwing punches like the library was some dumpy bar on the outskirts of their college town. He also didn’t know how the other student was, but if his own injuries were any indication, it probably was a fair fight. Shifting a leg out, Illya manages to push himself up the bed, feeling the whole bed creak under his weight. His legs are so long that his feet almost hang off the edge of the bed. All his moving makes the small springs squeak. The movement finally stirs Gaby and she’s up instantly, words full of sleep--

“I..Illya,” She yawns moving her hands out as if she could push him back down into the bed. Her little hands start on his shoulders and then she steps closer to the bed, moving them up to the sides of his face. Her fingers on his face are so gentle. They barely ghost over the lines of his jaw. He wonders what he looks like, vaguely thinking he can’t be very handsome with the bandage over his face or the bruises that are probably blooming across his cheeks, spanning to his temples where his opponent's fists landed.. Her fingers are very gentle when they slide up from his face to his hair, gently pressing down wild blond hairs that have gone awry against the pillow. Her brown eyes cut to his blue and he knows that this gentle facade of hers is about to be over with. He can tell by the way she’s squaring her shoulders, taking in a healthy breath to steady her words -- “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

He swallows hard. He has no words for his actions but he won’t apologize for them. If he hadn’t been worried about hitting Gaby, he would have continued fighting until his knuckles broke under the pressure of his punches. She continues on when he doesn’t answer her statement, “You know they had to report the fight. This could ruin your semester and Alexander’s as well!” 

Alexander must have been his opponent. Illya’s gaze flicked from Gaby’s to the rest of the room. There was no second bed in the infirmary room. He wondered for a moment where they moved the other man, but Gaby’s words bring him out of those thoughts, “I was worried about you.” She says suddenly in the quiet room. Her words stop his heart as her fingers trail down the back of his head, playing with the short blonde hair there. Her fingers stroke downwards as she carries on in that soft voice of hers, “When Alexander kept hitting you, I was worried you wouldn’t get back up. I had to have Napoleon and a couple of TA’s come carry you to the infirmary--”

“This Alexander,” Illya interrupts her with his hand moving up to catch her wrist as her hands start their descent down his neck. As much as he enjoys the connection, he has questions that need to be answered. They’re important to him even if she doesn’t think so. His thumb smooths over the soft spot of her wrist, tracing along the veins under her skin. She’s warm and soft against his calloused fingers, “This Alexander is important to you?”

For a moment there’s no answer. There’s just a silence sinking in between them and she doesn’t say anything, just runs her tongue along her bottom lip and looks down at their connected hands. Silence is a bad thing. At least that’s what Napoleon tells him. Silence means she’s going to say everything he doesn’t want to hear. Shifting forward a bit, the smaller woman takes a seat on the edge of the thin mattress, half-sitting against his body. It’s in this position that she takes him by surprise. “It’s not what you think. You should have asked this before you kicked in the library door on your mission like some Russian KGB agent.” 

Illya scoffs, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of her words, “Do not be silly with me Gaby. I would very much enjoy the truth from you.” He chastises her but she smiles anyways to his words.

“I’m serious,” Her voice lowers as she leans in a bit, the edge of her forehead presses over his and he winces for a moment at the sudden contact, “What you saw isn’t what you think. He was drunk, fresh from the frat party.” She reaches up while talking to him, touching one of his longer pieces of blonde hair. Her thumb and forefinger gently touch the soft strands before she pulls her hand back gently. Her fingers caress over the uninjured part of his cheek before they slide completely away, “I don’t need protecting. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

He closes his eyes feeling her fingers and listening to her words. Her forehead is gently rolling along his, careful of his wounds and he can feel her breath ghosting over his lips. He wants to close the gap between them and savor their silence with a soft kiss, but he can’t just yet, everything hurts. 

“He was on you like some animal.” Illya growls at her, jaw clenching for a moment before he manages to relax his muscles. His nose is throbbing in pain but he’s focused on the smaller woman on the bed with him. Without much thought, he moves over and lets go of her wrist long enough to wrap his arm around her slender waist. Gaby’s lips part with a soft squeak but she doesn’t fight him. She lets him pull her on to the bed and she curls into his side. She’s very careful of his injured self, settling against his body, dark head tilted up. 

“I was pushing him off you know.” Gaby speaks softly into the room, gaze on the ceiling. Her outline in the fluorescent lighting is quickly becoming his favorite thing to look at. In fact everything in this moment between them is quickly becoming his favorite. He doesn’t think about the possible outcomes of his fight with the other boy. He only thinks about the apology forming on his tongue. He owes her this. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes shyly, with a soft tone and his fingers digging into her soft bun. He pulls her hair free from the little elastic band holding it back and it spills over his hand and her shoulders in a soft curtain. Illya can’t resist running his fingers through it, brushing it down past her shoulders. The Russian born man takes a moment to marvel in her beauty. Illya’s fingers move from her hair to the outline of her jaw where he turns her head up gently. 

She moves with his gentle guidance and then he’s kissing her. There’s no hesitation in his movements. This is one thing he’s sure of. Illya kisses her with a careful certainty, his lips pressing over hers, starting soft and then pressing against her with a bit more urgency. He’s been waiting to kiss her since Napoleon had conned him into going to that silly open house party. Ever since she danced her way down those steps and drunkenly collided with him, lips parted -- ready for a kiss. Gaby lets out this soft sigh and in no time is sinking into him. Her lips press back against his and the world around them is lost and forgotten. He kisses her until he loses count of the minutes, until his lungs start to burn and then before he can kiss her once more, she’s pulling back. Her lips stay close to his own as she whispers to him, “Illya.” 

Her mouth just barely ghosts over his own as she speaks. He leans in to seal whatever this is, whatever is between them in a kiss. Only when her nose touches his there is an explosion of pain. He has to pull back, gritting his teeth with the pain that is crawling over his skin like a spider’s web. Illya is forced to pull away from her, his larger hands sliding over her shoulders, gently pushing her back -- and something between them snaps. She’s off the bed and raking her nails through her bangs. Her cheeks are flushed, flustered looking and wild-eyed, she leaves him. Gaby’s feet are so light, she’s gone before he can speak her name. He’s forced to lay back, alone.


	6. Collecting Hope

Academic suspension is what he gets after nearly two hours in the administrative offices. He’s bounced from one authority figure to another, finally landing on the Dean of Students. His file has been combed over even though Illya knows it's clean, they do it anyways. They inform him the other young man is receiving the same punishment, that they are not to be within a certain distance of one another. Alexander Waverly is not to be in the same building as him. It’s all very clear and he’s very lucky in the end. His scholarship remains intact, but he’s severely warned on a consistent level that he will be watched.

He can’t mess up again. 

He can’t risk not finishing out the school year as the holidays begin to settle in. There’s red ribbons and evergreen trees everywhere throughout the campus. Lights are strung up around doors and every is in a cheerful mood except Illya. His nose is still broken, but healing. Most of the bruising has faded but it’s still enough for people to stare at, even when he wants to be left alone. He’s buried himself in the back of the library when she shows up. A piece of paper is dropped on the book he’s hunched over and it has those familiar looping letters across it. He doesn’t even stop to read the note, instead glancing up at the fingers that dropped it there. Gaby is just behind him. Her red sweater is zipped up to her neck, where there’s a handmade scarf tied around her neck. She looks cold, fresh from the snow outside with her cheeks tinged red. 

Illya doesn’t even bother reading the note, he simply pushes it off of the pages in his book and focuses back on his studies. He tries to ignore her standing impatiently behind him, then the light tapping of her foot. He makes a show of turning the pages in his textbook even though he hasn’t read more than a sentence or two when she breaks down. Her arm comes into his vision and she shoves his textbook across the dark table. It slides easily away, out of reach and he is so annoyed with the action he almost forgets he’s angry with her. He is on suspension because of her -- well, because of himself but actions for her. To make matters worse, she had kissed him and run off. Kissing her had been well over a week ago and he could still feel the impression of her lips on his. It was something he wasn’t likely to forget, even with her pressing on his nerves now. An impatient sigh escapes her lips and she pulls on his chair. It doesn’t budge which Illya finds amusing but she’s even more frustrated, with her knuckles turning white and her impatient pulling. After what feels like an eternity, she gives up and finally lets go. Instead of forcing him up and out, she stretches across the study table and gives him her note once more.

“No,” he whispers and pushes it aside again, his whisper is so loud in the quiet building and part of him feels bad for rejecting her. Only the other half of his mind is telling him to focus on the work at hand. He’s reminded of his conversation with the administrators. He can’t mess up again and anything to do with Gaby Teller is sure to ruin him. When his little response sinks in, she backs away from him. It’s slow and deliberately so, as she walks backwards, eyes on his as she puts distance between them.

Then before she can get too far, in the middle of the very quiet library, she screams out her apology. 

Her voice practically echoes off of the heavens. The whole library is shaken with the sound of her ‘SORRY’ vibrating over the spines of books. Then before anyone can catch her, she runs towards him. Her hand grabs his and without even pulling, she’s dragging him out of the library. They’re running like two criminals fleeing a crime scene. Illya barely has a moment to collect his bag and textbook before they’re on the run. Gaby’s a few steps ahead of him but his long legs quickly make up the distance between them. She reaches for him once more and takes his wrist tightly. Her fingers don’t even fully wrap around as she pulls on him, heading out the side exit of the building. They slide out the door, boots crunching over partially melted ice. Gaby leads him further and further away from the library, yanking him to the left in a quick decision, dragging him down along the rows of fraternity and sorority homes that were built way too close together. They squeeze between two row houses before she manages to stop. There’s slush up to her ankles and she’s bent down at the waist breathing incredibly hard before the laughter starts.

Her laughter is full of gaps as she takes in a few deep breaths, but it’s infectious. He finds himself laughing, back pressed into the side of the row house. His lips are in a painful smile but it’s worth every bit of pain to laugh along side of her. Gaby’s laugh manages to trail off as she straightens herself up, head tilted up in his direction, “I am you know.” She smiles as the words leave her.

Illya’s gaze drags down over her face and he knows she’s telling the truth. He wants to tell her she doesn’t need to be sorry, but the words never leave him. Instead he moves a hand over, brushing bangs and stray tendrils away from her face. His thumb slips over her cheek and before he can stop himself, he’s kissing her. Both hands slide into her hair, messing up her low ponytail. She smiles against his mouth and then she’s kissing him back. There’s no more apologies or even words between them. Her smaller hands cover his wrists and then move up his forearms. She’s holding onto him in the cold, stepping closer to keep warm. Illya is first to break the kiss but only because he wants to trail his lips everywhere and he does so on all the exposed pieces of her face. He kisses the bridge of her nose, her temples and her cheeks, pausing to kiss the corner of her mouth where her lips curve up into one of those cat-like smiles. 

“I know,” He finally answers her, lips ghosting over her own as he pulls away from her. Her small hands find the edge of his jacket and before he can pull her in, she’s nestling herself under it. Gaby’s arms wrap around his chest and she presses her cheek into his shirt. He wraps his coat as far as it will reach around her back and settles for dropping his head on her shoulder. He wants to stay like this forever. Illya almost closes his eyes when she speaks up though, breaking their moment of silence.

“Do you have the notes for Psych?” 

Illya raises a fine eyebrow even if she can’t see it as a whole new sense of worry settles into the pit of his stomach. His teeth clench together and his hands on her back tighten a bit, fingers digging into her red sweatshirt as he steadies his voice, “I do, please tell me that is not why you let me kiss you.”

There’s a moment of silence and then she’s shaking with a new round of laughter. Gaby’s dark head shakes against his chest and she leans up on the tips of her toes, pressing a loud kiss to the underside of his jaw, “Not at all, but it does make me want to kiss you again.” 

Her laughter puts him at ease and all the worry melts away as he turns his head down, “Does it help I also have the notes for Russian Literature?” He’s teasing her back, lips hovering dangerously close to hers once again.

 

“I don’t take that class though,” She smiles back to him, brown eyes shining with laughter as she licks over her bottom lip. 

“But I do,” Illya’s smile is wide as he leans down a little closer, “And I took the notes.” 

“Well, just for that I think you deserve this,” She barely lets the words leave her before there’s another kiss. It’s one that leaves him breathless just before the harsh winter wind kicks up around them. There’s a rush of snow flurries and Gaby shivers against him, breaking their kiss. 

“You are freezing.” His hands trail down the back of her sweatshirt, “Let’s go get you warmed up. From there we can talk about whatever it is, you’re doing to me.” He trails off his own words as Gaby slips out of his coat, her hand smooths down his sleeve and she takes his hand in her own. Her fingers slip easily into his palm and down against his own fingers, lacing them together tightly. She’s nodding but stops as his last words hit her with full force, he catches the movement and tugs her along gently with his own hand, “But first, we get warm.”


	7. Almost Feeling Human

He promised to get her warm and while he could sneak into her dorms again, he rather not risk any more strikes against his academic record. Instead he leads her to the dining hall where there’s hundred of students milling in and out with a loud chatter filling the air. It’s just busy enough that no one will notice them when Illya pulls Gaby onto the edge of her toes. He drags her up into yet another kiss. He can’t seem to let himself be free of her. She smiles against his mouth as she kisses him back, only breaking away to loop her arm in his once more. She leads him along now, ponytail swinging back and forth across her shoulders as she moves to one of the booths along the wall. Instead of taking the seat across from him, she takes the same bench as him, burying her cold fingers against his warm neck. 

Illya jerks against the sudden sensation, cursing softly in his native tongue and it makes her laugh. Her laugh is practically musical to him, so much so that he doesn’t even care that her hands are like that of death’s own. He’s too busy watching her lips part, head tilted back and eyes shining. She’s beautifully put together with messy hair and clothes that look too big for her small frame.

“What part of Russia are you from?” Gaby asks between her soft laughs, her tone is light and she keeps her cold fingers on his neck. He yields to her question and her frozen digits, turning his blond head down to hers. 

“Pskov.” He answers her softly and when she raises her brow to him, he leans in a little closer. The tip of his nose touched hers and his lips twitched in one of those rare smiles, “About a day worth of train ride to Moscow.” 

Gaby’s lips part in a soft little ‘oh’ shape and before she can kiss him someone takes the seat across from them, hands slamming on the table. The sudden presence is alarming for both of them.

“Illya,” Napoleon says loudly and Gaby practically springs away from him, taking her cold hand away from his neck. He can feel the flush crawling up along the edge of his neck but he quickly pushes it away, glancing to his roommate.

“Solo.” Illya nods in his direction while sending him a not-so-friendly look. His fingers twitch against the table but he remains calm. Gaby’s hand moves under the table and she sets it on his knee. There’s a sudden rush of warmth across his body from her tiny touch. It’s a simple reassuring gesture that warms him. 

“--And hello to you too Gaby,” Napoleon’s brows go up and he gives Gaby one of his best smiles but she’s immune to his charms. She practically rolls her brown eyes at him, giving him an exaggerated hello, as if he’s interrupting her life and in a way he is. She doesn’t press herself back into Illya’s side. Instead she leans back in the booth, hand still on his knee while her feet swing back and forth. She puts her free elbow up on the table and props up her dark head while Napoleon carries on, “So what brings you two here together? You know Gaby, he usually eats alone. I have to sit with him so he doesn’t get lonely.” 

Napoleon is teasing him of course but Illya still sends him a menacing glare. The kind that means he’s willing to risk academic strikes for a good swing at his roommate. His knee twitches under Gaby’s hand but she gently rubs her thumb over his pant leg in a small circle. The little gesture instantly quelled the anger that skipped across his nerves. 

“Funny, I thought he hung out with you.” She quickly retorts to Napoleon who catches her teasing tone with an over exaggerated frown creasing along his brows. It was all part of a show for Napoleon, because his frown quickly melted with the sight of a long legged blond walking past their table. Victoria blew Napoleon a quick kiss and then was gone as quickly as she game.

“Out of your league Cowboy.” Illya reminded him with that accent of his. Gaby blew out a low whistle and cut her gaze from Napoleon to Illya.

“How do you know that?” Gaby asked him curiously, “Victoria could be into him.” She said it as if she was best friends with the blond beauty, that she could easily love the dark haired man sitting across from the two of them.

“Trust me little one,” Illya says in his most affectionate tone as he raises a hand up as if he’s going to tap her nose but stops, turning his finger to Napoleon. “She is out of his league.” 

“C’mon now,” Napoleon rolls his blue eyes as the accusatory finger, “I think you’re jealous. I’ve got Victoria on the line and -- ”

“Now you need to reel her in, like she’s some fish?” Gaby interrupts him with a quick brow raised in his direction. She knew plenty of Napoleon. They shared a few classes like psychology and mathematics, but she also knew he had a reputation. Word of his ways spread across the campus in his freshman year, only getting better and dirtier as his academic career carried on. Her hand quickly moved from Illya’s knee to the table where she tapped her nails impatiently at the womanizer sitting across from her, brow crinkling ever-so-slightly. Her feet quickly stopped their swinging as she sucked in a sharp breath, “Because women are not fish. You can’t collect us and throw us back when you’re done. I am my own woman you know.” She informs Napoleon but Illya can’t help but think that last part is directed at him.

Part of him feels defensive. Not for Napoleon but for himself. He never saw Gaby as a fish or someone to throw back into the river. He saw her as a woman who could stand her ground and capture the world if she really wanted it. His hand moved from the table and over onto her tapping fingers, silencing them. 

“Gaby,” He holds her fingers for just a moment as he looks down at her. “You are not a fish.”

“I’m not?” She whispers the question softly, the two of them forgetting the rest of the dining hall and the third person at their table.

“No,” Illya answers her honestly but before he can say anything, she makes a face at him with her lips pursed looking just like a fish in an aquarium.

“How ‘bout now?” She teases and Napoleon breaks out into laughter. Illya blows out a sigh as Gaby’s own face is broken with a sharp laugh. Their serious moment is over. Gaby’s fingers turn in his hold and she laces them with him, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She squeezes his hand and he finally lets himself smile, leaning back in the booth. His gaze moves from Gaby to Napoleon and his smile widens a bit. These two are ridiculous but they are the only two in the whole school that give him the time of day. They don’t walk past him like he’s invisible, they don’t mock his accent either. They treat him like he’s actually human, at least Napoleon does. Gaby however, he can’t quite put his finger on her. 

She’s a mystery with a sharp smile and a not-so-quiet whisper. She holds his hand and lets her mouth mold to his. Something about her gaze makes his heart skip a beat and still, she stands next to him and his best friend. She’s a good fit for the two of them. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t hear Napoleon’s question the first time around. His roommate’s fingers snap a few times close to his face and Illya snaps out of the daze he’s in. 

“What is it?” He asks, tilting his head towards his friend.

“I asked if you two were thirsty.” Napoleon’s lips are curving up into another one of his famous smiles. He’s already stretching his legs out like he’s about get up and run.

“Thirsty?” Illya’s confused for a moment but Gaby’s elbow gently digs into his side.

“He’s asking us to a party.” She muses at Illya’s question and she moves her hands down to bury her cool fingers in the pocket on the front of her hoodie.

“Exactly Gabs!” Napoleon snaps his fingers as he looks from her to Illya with both brow raised, “C’mon, you two need to socialize without breaking school rules or shouting it in the library.”

Gaby instantly sat up in her seat, “What did you say?” 

Napoleon cut his blue gaze to the small woman and he grinned a little wider looking much like a cat about to catch a singing canary with the cage wide open. The dark haired man stretched once more before sliding out of his seat, standing at the end of the table, “You know, him going into your dorm and you with those lungs in the library.”

Illya sees the tops of Gaby’s cheeks go pink and then catches on to Solo’s words as he jerks his blond head up, “Wait,” Illya moves a hand up to point at Napoleon, “How do you know I went to her dorm.”

“I was across the hall.” Napoleon sends them both a wink before stepping away, “Now if you two want to join me, Victoria’s sorority house is throwing a pre-spring mixer. I plan on reeling in my fish tonight.” Solo makes a motion like he’s fishing and reeling in a line while walking away from the two of them. 

“How many people do you think heard me?” Gaby asked softly sinking down into her seat.

Illya cut her a quick look, “A lot. You are quite loud.” 

She punches his shoulder and he can’t help but laugh. It’s not much, nothing like hers but it’s something. A soft chuckle that leaves his lips and makes her smile. 

“So are we going?” She asks him while his shoulders shake softly. 

“Going?” Illya looks to her for a moment, “To the party? You want to go to a sorority party?” 

“They serve the best vodka.” She sends him a wink and moves to slide out of the booth, “I’ll head back to my dorm and change, you’ll pick me up.” Gaby doesn’t ask, she tells and he nods softly, not wanting to tell her no.

“Fine, you have half an hour.” He tries to do the same but she shakes her head.

“An hour.” She corrects him as she leans across the edge of the booth. Before he can agree with her though, her lips are on his and she’s sealing their deal with a kiss so good he loses himself in the feel of her. The rest of the dining hall is temporarily forgotten and then it’s over before he can keep it going. Gaby pulls away from him and whispers softly against his mouth, “See you in an hour.”

“An hour.” Illya repeats with a soft dazed look about his blue eyes. She smiles at him and then backs away, slowly tearing herself away from him and navigating through the crowd of the dining hall. After a moment or so of silence he’s smiling. Both hands are on the table and his lips still burn with the feeling of hers on his. He wants the world to stop. He wants everything to slow down so he can savor the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest, of her cold fingers and hot mouth. Illya knows he can’t sit here forever, eventually he gets up and heads for his own dorm to get dressed, eyes constantly checking his watch for his hour to be up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Sorry it took so long for me to update and that this update is rather short.   
> I promise I will try to update this again sooner rather than later.  
> Thank you everyone for the kind comments / kudos. You guys are amazing.  
> Find me @wondervvoman or @imaginegallya on tumblr for more prompts.


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